There’s something out there in the cold strong winds that are whipping around my house this morning. In the spring this would most definitely be tornado weather, the eire sky, the lack of wildlife, the cold and hot airs that make no sense, pulling at your hair, making it fly in several directions at once, drawing your insides to want to stay in the midst of it all, as if there might just be something to see.
But it’s winter, there’s nothing to see but scattering leaves and rolling clouds. The air is too wet, too heavy, too even for anything exciting. But it still has that charge to it. The kind that begs for attention and stirs my mind.
Things have been so much clearer lately, my thoughts, my words… I credit it all to my non-ending interwebs vacation. Without warning or planning I unlogged my brain from everything that was cluttering it. Stats, blogs, drama, competition. I walked away from it all. And slowly, very slowly the only voice I could hear in my head was my own.
So what if I screwed up the whole NaBloPoMo, it was only stats after all, and I was beyond frustrated with what I was producing. A large vault of nothing and self despise. I could only hear the stats yelling at me, the voices of other writers kept pushing their way through my fingertips. That’s not to say that I couldn’t have done it, I could. And that’s not to say I won’t do it again, I will.
I also was able to finally read the Hunger Games, which also was an eye opener. Not the story it’s self, although I like it very much, although a tad bit predictable (imo), it was the writer’s style that grabbed me. Lately my choice of literature had left me feeling, eh, stupid. Maybe stupid isn’t the right word, but the writers’ choice of words kept me longing for a dictionary, and had me thinking that I was well undereducated to write a successful book. Whereas Collins in her trilogy has not once given me a word to look up, yet she still has carried out the whole plot perfectly. Her simple writing still works incredibly well (and granted fits in with the plot), which gives me hope that mine will too, one day. And YES M. reading does count as working on my book! It’s research! I swear.
The minions are now starting to chew on my ankles and my coffee is growing cold, and this post did not go in the direction I had planned, so its way past time to wrap this up. <3